The Future Is (Not) Known
by taekinuru
Summary: The story has ended, but in an alternate reality, things occurred differently... Experimental reboot story in which I give more depth than I feel Mookie did. There are a few curse words, but I rank them as Teen as nothing particularly too inappropriate occurs... Yet.


**This is a work of fanfiction. Pretty much everything in this destroy belongs to Michael 'Mookie' Terracciano, creator of the now finished webcomic Dominic Deegan.**

**I wish to make something clear before I begin. I am not fond of Mookie's work. Much of what he does is terrible. What one is good at is giving ideas for a setting. His characters are often dull or overpowered, or worse, adhere to basic stereotypes, and often something is revealed that is never explored, a Chekov's Misfire every few chapters. But, I liked his setting, and wanted to play with it. So, here begins The Future Is (Not) Known, whose title may be based upon Neon Genesis Evangelion's movies' titles as they were fun.**

* * *

Dominic Deegan was having a bad day.

He had set up shop in the small town of Drognr only a few months ago, and he had long since outgrown his initial optimism of his first out-of-city experience in using his abilities.

Being a seer, or an oracle (there is little to no difference. A seer chooses to see, an oracle simply sees.) depending on how tired he was and how easily his mind slipped into the state of Sight, in which the world took on many hues and time itself laid itself bare to him, as a series of flashing images... It wasn't easy.

Not least because the Sight causes headaches, mostly due to the obvious reasons: Seeing multiple timelines and events overlay each other with the colours and lights flickering from one hue to another at random can easily cause headaches. Many seers are obsessed with the colour of their visions: red often signifies conflict. Blue, regret. Green, peace. Others see the world in true colours, as it should be. Most flicker between colours randomly, especially with general viewings of the future.

Most seers are epileptics. It is unknown if there is a connection, since they do not see any real light during a vision, not exactly, but instead their mind taps into magic that moves slightly faster than time to see what comes ahead. A light of magic.

Headaches are common though even if not. Seers are highly valued, and are often called upon to see the future, often for a sadly low fee, barely enough for them to afford reinforcing agents to make it easier, let alone food.

Do too many viewings a day though, and a mindbreak occurs. One's mind simply cracks, and you cannot leave the Sight, and are perpetually seeing (and feeling. Few people remember that seers also can feel the shape of objects in the future even if they do not ever possess it in their timeline) the world out of synchronicity with reality. Some can survive being in such a state, usually if it is brief and involves a static period of time. Others can die. Stories of seers, panicking as they explored a location they were not actually physically in, were common enough in news reports from the City. Often they jump off bridges in their wanderings, and die, if no-one can escort them to a cell until they recover, if they do recover.

But Dominic Deegan was having a bad day mostly because his cat had somehow managed to annoy an elderly woman, who was now threatening him with a curse. Apparently, Spark had eaten her prized etherically grown mouse.

He was growing bored of her, and the near constant headaches caused by the populace asking him inane questions about their future for a 3 shilling fee (fairly cheap, but they come frequently then, so more profit per day. Also, a lot of them would beat him up if he charged more.) were beginning to stress him out.

He decided to butt into the woman's rant.

"Miss, I am sorry about the actions of my cat. However, as you may not know, Spark here is a sentient being and thus not under my ownership under Callanian law, and lives with me purely due to the fact that people do not nail him to the wall as a demon cat in regions such as this if a slightly odd human with a magic glass ball hangs around him. And because I don't mind him living here rent-free. If you have an issue with him, then speak to him."

"Talk with a cat? Are you bloody barmy, young man?"

"Miss, I have explained thorougly. Now, I have had a busy day, and if you insist on berating me with your ignorant ravings about my good friend eating your mouse before it was used on your friend you know and seemingly hate from the surgery because she called your Jason a bit of a twat, to use her terms, which ultimately would have lead to your capture, imprisonment, and most likely a life sentence due to the illegal alterations on a non-sentient, non-willing animal."

The woman paled.

"You knew?"

"No. Read the sign. Oracle for hire. I saw your future just now, and said it. My visions are admissable evidence in a court of law, although only if you actually do commit the crime after I see it, or during. So please, go away, leave my cat alone, he's done you a favour, as you apparently don't last long in prison at your age."

"Y... Yes. But I don't want to see your cat around my place again, you hear?"

"I hear you, miss. I will do my best to bar him going to yours except in exceptional circumstances. Goodbye."

The woman wandered out of the shop.

Dominic sighed.

Spark was getting to be a problem. Being a cat imbued with magics of the Wild Plains (a region scarred by successive magical battles over the centuries, leaving thaumaturgical residue that mutates things into the eldritch and oblong) he was slightly... Weird. The cat would teleport at random, often disappearing for months at a time, before reappearing again without much of a care. As the cat could talk as a part of it's mutations, it was a good enough friend, but sometimes, the sentient cat was a bit of a seer of itself, and would actively give out vigilante justice in the village, if not further.

Dominic had little to no control over the creature, but had long since become inured to its strange properties, of which he had long since gotten used to, as had many others with 'pets' (though not technically bindimg legally, sentients are unofficially awarded all rights others do if they can prove sentience via a variety of tests) that originated from the Wild Plains.

It was just... Like the cat was trying to get him in trouble sometimes.

_Ah well._

Dominic decided to go to sleep.

Maybe the headache will go by the morning. Can't afford a painkiller scroll anyway.

* * *

_There was a black gear spinning in the air above a city of steel. Around it, clouds drifted in and out of its spokes. In its centre, a grinning skull with one metal-plated red eye smiled._

_ And a scared man in a brightly coloured scarf wept._


End file.
